Sickness Unforseen
by Tauni
Summary: Who knew that a simple scrape could lead to such trouble? Oneshot & Old Reposted


_Authors Note: Murrrr, I deleted this forever ago annnnd then some people have since asked me to shove it back up so, here it is, back on the net, hope no one minds my reposting (though its been like ages xD) Anyway, enjoy~_

* * *

"Comeon…. Comeon! MOVE FASTER!!!" Mike cried at the TV, punching his thumbs at the controls on the play station remote with such force that Don had to wince at the sound of plastic under stress. "Just a little faster….nearly there…."

Raph laughed a barking like sound, a vicious, victorious smile on his face as he pulled even further ahead of Mikey, strengthening his hold on first place. "You ain't gunna win this one Mikey, this is _all_ mine…"

Don's tongue was held tightly between his teeth as he watched the cars on the screen, Mike's bright orange Lamborghini inching slowly closer to Raph's black Ferrari. Then, up head! The finish line was close! And Mike was still behind.

He would be lying if he said that he was excited that Mikey, the self acclaimed game king, lost. Don would _love_ it. And that meant that he would take Mike's place and battle Raphael. Raph was easy to win, especially with the special combinations that he knew by memory. Sure, some might consider it cheating, but Don saw it as simply an advantage that the others didn't know about. Perfectly legal, as long as they didn't catch him.

"HAH!" Raph was triumphant as his car tore past the finish line first, and Mike gave a guttural groan. "You have to do the dishes for the next week!"

"But, you cheated," Mikey accused, folding his arms across his plastron in a pout. "Everyone knows that Lamborghini is the better Italian car! It can't be beaten by a stupid _Ferrari_!"

"Sorry Mike," Don said as he stood up and snatched the controller that the youngest had thrown to the ground. "You lost. Now get up, it's my turn."

"Yeah, and the sink's full'a dishes, so get to it." Raph's smile was wide and nearly malicious, happy that he didn't have to dunk his hands into that filth bucket this week. Mike was the one who dirtied the most dishes anyway, he should do it more often.

"Whatever…" Mike sighed in defeat and pulled himself to his feet. The bandage around his calf pulled sharply and he hissed in pain, bringing a hand down to itch at it in hopes to relieve the slight burn as the stitches were pulled tight.

"Don't!" Don reprimanded, slapping the hand away. "You'll pull out the stitches and I'll have to put them back in _again!_"

"But Doo~oon!" Mike whined loudly, pouting pitifully. "It itches like, _really_ bad!" The medic of the family turned his body slightly from where he sat on the ground and gave one his few dangerous looks which had Mike smiling widely, "Ok, ok. I won't do it."

Rolling his eyes Mike turned and walked out, muttering about something or another. The second he reached the point beyond the couch he reached down, fingers brushing the white wrappings when – "Michelangelo!" Don's voice sharply called out, he had been listening to the footsteps, stupid smart turtle.

"OK! FINE!" with that Mike was out the living room and into the kitchen area, groaning at how _large_ the pile of dirty dishes was and not liking the idea of having to wash it all off in hot water – it was already warm in here and sticking his hands into boiling water just didn't sound like it was going to help him.

Don shook his head irritably as he turned back to the game and rifled through his choice of cars.

"Oh, don't worry Donnie!" Raph said, still chipper from his previous win, "He'll tear out a stitch and bleed everywhere, then he'll hafta clean it. That'll teach 'm a lesson!"

"And then we'd have to listen to him whining all night," The purple clad turtle stated matter-of-factly.

Raphael's eyes narrowed as he thought about this then abruptly turned his body towards the kitchen, "DON'T YOU TOUCH THOSE STITCHES YOU 'LIL SHITHEAD!!!" he yelled so loudly that Don winced and drew away from his brother.

"OHMIGOD HOW DO YOU KNOW?!" Mikes astonished voice came from the kitchen where he was currently frozen in place in the middle of carefully unwrapping the bandages so he could itch, hoping that by itching it he would chase away the burning sensation.

Mikey grumbled and rewrapped what little he had mange to pull off, grabbing his ice water and taking in a sip. He fanned himself for a moment, hating the stuffy air. _Must be real warm topside for it to be this warm down here…_

How warm could it be at nine at night, though?

"Get ready, Get set," the deep male voice on the television echoed in the living room, going from red to yellow and then – "GO!" – green.

The two cars sped off, peeling out and completing against each other. Don was silent as he calculated which would be the right time to activate his little help code. Not now, of course, let Raph think that he's going to win and then, BAM, pull a fast one on him. Literally.

Not one minute into the game there was a loud crash from the kitchen. Raph punched down on the pause button and turned again to the kitchen, "MIKEY, DAMNIT, WHAT DID YOU JUST DO?!"

No reply. _Oh, so he's gunna play that game, eh? Pretend that nothing happened._ Raph growled lowly in his throat, it was his week for dishes and if that pipsqueak broke anything he'd be one to blame. Splinter didn't like them rifling off their chores, so they never really admitted to it when they didn't have to.

Raph started to turn back to the screen, shaking his head angrily, when Mikey's trembling frame appeared in the door way. "Mikey?" at this Don also turned, concern overwhelming his face.

"Don…" Mike's voice, so loud and boisterous a few moments ago, was now a loud whisper, "I don… don't feel so goo-" he never finished his sentence as his body slumped forward and his hands clutched at the doorframe.

"Mike!" Raph leapt up, Don right beside him, and together they ran to him (Raph simply jumping over the couch while Don hurried around it.)

A sweat was already making his body shine slightly in the fake light and one large drop traced along the side of his face and slide down his neck. His hands, slick with the same sweat, started to slip on the frame and no longer had any strength to hold himself up. Silently his body fell forward to the ground, picking up speed in the short distance it had to go.

"Shit, Mike!" Raph reached his youngest brother in time to grab him under the arms and prevent him from hitting the floor face first. He hauled Mikey back on his two feet, swearing again under his breath. Michelangelo's skin was blazing hot under his hands.

Don grabbed his other side, his eyes widening as he felt for the first time just how hot the youngest really was. "Raph, help me get him to the couch," he asked and started walking forward with Mike's arm over his shoulder.

They quickly but gently set him on the couch and Don ran off into the bathroom to grab the first aid kit. While he was gone Raph ran into the kitchen and grabbed a bowl of lukewarm water and a rag. By the time he got back, Donnie was already there and he held his hand out for the rag.

"Mikey, can you open your eyes please," Don asked gently, running the moist rag over his forehead to wipe away the collected sweat.

Slowly, and with much effort Mike's eyes slid open and they swiveled around to meet Don's. They where shiny with fever, unfocused and dilated.

"Mike, tell me what hurts, where is there pain?" Don asked, wiping more sweat away from his face, "Come on Mikey, talk to me, what's going on…"

"Fuck, Don, what the hell is this? He was just fine a few minutes ago and now he's…" Raph was pacing back and forth, running a hand behind his bald head in worry.

"Shush Raph, I can't hear him," Don leaned in closer, running a fresh cloth over Mike's face, "Can you tell me again Mikey?"

"'re'are…" Mike mumbled, his eyes sliding shut again.

"Mike, stay awake and tell me again, where does it hurt?"

"Ev'rywh're…" Mike's eyes stay closed but it seemed that his ears where still open, "Burnsss… 's hot 'n here…" Mike took one ragged breath and it came out hot on Don's face.

With a finger under Mikey's jaw Don felt his pulse, "Damn, his heart is racing. Raph, can you go get a bottle of water?" With how hot Mike was getting and how much he was sweating he was going to be dehydrated within twenty minutes.

Raph nodded and ran off, quivering with fear of not knowing what was going on. They couldn't contact _anyone,_ Leo and Splinter are on a special training thing up at the farm. And the farm never got a phone and the cell shells don't work up there. It would take a whole day to get a message up there. Casey and April were off to Florida for two more weeks, so he would have to leave Don alone with Mike to drive the long distance up to the farm.

_Mike might not have that much time…_

"Mikey, Mike…" Don kept repeating the name, trying to keep those foggy blue eyes open, "Stay awake, please stay awake… Does it hurt anywhere especially?"

"'m leg… stings…" Mike moaned as his skin paled yet another shade lighter.

"Your… Leg?" Don moved down but he hardly got to Mike's hip when the turtle leaned over to the side and vomited the contents of his stomach.

"Ugh," Raph happened to turn the corner just in time to see chewed up who-knows-what splatter on the ground. "Don, here," He tossed the water bottle and turned around again to grab something to clean that up.

"Get a bucket too; it's probably going to happen again!" Don called as he wiped off Mikey's cheek and chin from dribbling stomach acid. Raph jogged in and tossed him a water bucket and ran off again to get the other needed items. "Here, Mikey," he used one hand to push Mikey's head up slightly and the other put the bottle resting outside of his mouth, "You don't have to swallow, just swish and spit, get the taste out of your mouth, k?"

Mike made a small noise of coherence and weakly used his elbows to push himself upwards a little more. His mouth opened and Don tilted some water on, not much, and Mike hardly swished it around his mouth. He simply bent sideways and let it run out of his mouth, too frail to do much more.

No longer had the water fallen out of his mouth did he start to dry heave, bile dripping from his lips as his stomach tried to get everything out. _His temperature is too high, his body is rejecting everything in its attempts to get rid of whatever made it sick…_

Raph had entered the living room once again and was on his knees trying to get most of the puke up and not making a fuss about cleaning it. He was just glad to have something to _do_.

Don stuffed a pillow under Mike before helping him lay back. Over the last five minutes Michelangelo's breathing had grown more labored and rapid, his temperature had seemed to rise, and the sweat was still shiny on his body. "Mike, open your eyes and keep them open, come on."

Raph watched as Don moved back down to Mikey's leg and turned on his knees. A low growl formed in his throat and he stood up sharply, pivoting on his heels towards the tv which was emitting a low volume song. "Stupid fucking game," he muttered to himself, clenching his teeth as he poked sharply at the power button.

After a few more seconds of coaxing Mikey's fevered eyes slid open once again, only making it half way before stopping. He watched as Raph came over again and kneeled in front of him. One dark finger reached out and brushed the ill's arm as his golden eyes stayed locked with the blue ones.

Seeing this out of the corner of his eye as he unwrapped the bandages Don said, "Keep him awake, Raph, don't let him close his eyes again." Raph grunted an ok and started to talk lowly to Mike, anything to keep his attention and awareness.

As the bandages were unwrapped Don let them fall to the ground and stared at what he saw. "…Shit…" He murmured under his breath, causing Raph to turn sharply and see the stitched up wound.

"Holy Fuck." It was swollen and red, the stitches were encrusted with a slightly yellow dried material. Don's fingers ghosted over the area and found it hot to the touch. _Infected…_

"I think… I think he has Septicemia…" Don whispered, touching the wound gently again but stopping once Mike hissed quietly.

"Septi-Septic-what?" Raph questioned.

"Septicemia, in layman's terms…" Don bit his lip for a moment, his eyes shined with worry, "Blood poisoning. I think Mikey has blood poisoning."

Raph was speechless for a moment, turning back to see Mikey's closed eyes. His hand shook as he refreshed the rag on his forehead and his voice was quiet, "How-How do we fix it?"

"I… Don't remember. Hold on," without giving Raph a moment to call him back Don zipped off to his computer, commanding "Keep him awake Raph!!!"

Raph swiveled back to Mikey's face once again, grabbing the rag and wiping away the sweat. "Mike, look at me." He commanded, slapping his cheek lightly. This time Mike didn't respond, the only noise was his ragged, rapid breaths. "Mike, damnit, open your fucking eyes and _look at me!_"

Still, nothing. A panic started to rise in Raph as he lifted his other hand and grabbed one of Mikey's arms. "If you don't open your eyes and wake up I'm gunna… I'm gunna use your Justice Force comic books for toilet paper!"

And yet, nothing. No response, nothing at all. Raph had to keep him awake, _alive,_ that's all Don told him to do. And he couldn't _do it._ "Mike," he whispered, putting the rag down into the water bowl and looking at his eyelids, "_Please,_ Mikey, don't do this to me right now."

He was scared. Scared shitless. They had all been sick before, various times. And they had all gotten _really_ sick before, sick enough to worry about if they were going to live. But nothing, absolutely _nothing_ had ever hit this fast and his hard. It was an enemy they had no idea was here, no idea that it was about to attack and hurt. No idea that it might cause them a causality.

Don came running back, a printed sheet in his hand. He rattled off facts quickly, "Septicemia, also known as blood poisoning, is a life threatening infection that gets worse very quickly. Septicemia can begin with spiking fevers, chills, rapid breathing, and rapid heart rate. That's what he has right now."

He took a breath before continuing. "The symptoms rapidly progress to shock with decreased body temperature falling blood pressure, confusion or other changes in mental status, and blood clotting problems."

He stopped again and looked at Mike as the youngest took a loud, rapid breath.

"Well what'a we need ta do ta fix it?!" Raph was nearly yelling yet did not leave his place beside Mikey, his hand still attached to the youngest's arm.

"It-it says to go straight the hospit-"

"What ELSE can we do, Don?!"

"Uhn, he needs fluids because he's dehydrated. With the sweating and the vomiting, it's taking a toll on his body. And- we need antibiotics and- and he needs an oxygen tank, he's having trouble breathing." Don took a breath and rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes wandered down to the swollen and infected wound.

Normally Mike would already be in the lab, set up with whatever he needed, but it was being renovated. It was hardly clean enough in there to take him and there was no table in there anyway, it was all packed into a spare sewer alcove a block away.

"Try to get more water into him. I am going to grab the oxygen tank and-and see if I can find an IV bag." Raph nodded as Don ran off and grabbed the water bottle, unscrewing the cap and pressing it against Mike's lips. Slowly he tipped it up until the water lapped gently against Mike's lips then slipped slowly into his mouth, wetting his tongue.

In the last ten minutes, this got the first reaction out of Michelangelo. His tongue moved within the dark cavern towards the front, pressing up against the rounded top of the bottle. Taking the hint and encouraged by the movement Raph lifted the bottle slightly higher, careful not let Mike choke.

Two small slips later Mikey's eyes slid open to look blankly at Raph, his blue eyes so foggy and out-of-it that they hardly resembled Michelangelo. Another swallow and Mike's head jerked ever so slightly to the side, away from the bottle. "No, no, Mikey, you need to drink more, come on buddy," Raph pressed it up against his lips again and Mike accepted another small gulp before, once again, jerking to the side.

Raph took it away, planning to try again in a minute, and grabbed the rag in the bowl. He wrung it out wiped off Mikey's forehead for what felt like the hundredth time, moving to the side of his face and down his neck.

Mikey's eyes followed him as he moved, the lids slowly drooping down again. "No, uh hey, Mikey, keep lookin' at me. Uh-" Raph put the rag in the bowl again, scooting aside the bucket he had brought before which had a little fluid in it, "Hey you know Splinter 'n Leo'll be back in three days."

Apparently that wasn't interesting enough for Mikey's muddled mind as his eyes drifted downwards even more. "And uh! And if they come home and see that yer bedroom aint clean yet Splinter's gunna never let'cha watch cartoons again!"

Well. It was a little, tiny, isty-bitsy white lie. But hell, it worked. So go with the flow, ya know? "Yeah, its news only from here on out and… and stupid war movies and the History with Leo and Discovery with Donnie." Mike watched him fitfully through lidded eyes but he didn't seem to be _seeing_ him.

"And- you'll have to watch soap operas with Sensei!"

Well, that got nearly as much of reaction as the water did and his eyes opened a little more, focusing in on Raph's face. His mouth opened and a raspy noise came from it, but it was incoherent mumblings. "What was that?" Raph asked, excited to see a little more awareness from the sick turtle.

"Dun m'k me do 'at, I cle'n m'room, I pr'mise." Mike said a little louder.

Raph was taken aback, looking sharply at his younger brother. How does Mike expect to clean his room when he can hardly talk, much less move?

_... oh, that's right. Don said that he might be confused or whatevah._

Deciding to just roll with the punches, Raph played along, hoping to keep his brother awake until Don came back. "I'll help ya if jus' stay awake, k?" He proposed.

"But m'so _tired_." Mike moaned lowly, taking another raspy breath.

"Yeah, but if ya stay awake I'll-" Raph placed his hand on Mikey again and stopped in the middle of his sentence. Was Mike… cooler? Was this whole thing blowing over as quickly as it started? Maybe that's why Mike was in a more conscious state, because he was getting over it!

Then again, you should never wish for things such as that. You jinx them.

Mikey's body threw itself into a shiver that made everything tremble. Widening his eyes, Raph leapt up and grabbed a Splinter's thick blanket from the nearby recliner and threw it over him, tucking it gently on the sides as he continued to shiver.

The lair door opened and Don came running in, an IV bag draped over his shoulder and their small oxygen tank cradled in one arm. Held in his free hand was their bigger first aid kit, his medical one.

"Don, I think he's doin' that second part of the blood poisonin' thing," Raph said as he helped Don set down his stuff, "He's gettin' real cold."

"Already?" Don's asked worriedly, bending down to feel for himself. "Damn, Mike, not yet…" Without wasting time Donnie put on the breathing mask, glad that they had the special made one that worked with their snout. After tying a plastic tube around Mike's arm Don waited for the vein to pop and carefully put the IV needle in it once it did, setting up the bag on couch spine.

He moved back down and folded the blanket back to expose the infected wound. He needed to clean it, to get out what infection he could to help Mikey's body fight this off. Opening up the kit, he grabbed out a scalpel and some towels. The towels went under Mikey's leg so he could easily clean up whatever came out and he placed the cutting tool to the side for now, grabbing the items that he would need to suture it back up and setting them in order on the ground beside him.

"This- this is probably going to hurt him, so just- try and… keep him comfortable, k?" Don waited until Raph turned and gave him a silent nod and turned back to Mikey's face.

Taking three deep breaths to calm himself and put his mind in the right set Don grabbed the scalpel. Steadying his hands, he lowered it on the wound, cutting in then down through the stitches in one fluid, smooth movement.

Of course Mike, even in his sickened, weakened state felt _that_. The whole leg flinched with strength not seen since he went to go do the dishes. Thankfully Don had expected this beforehand and had placed a hand on it before he had started cutting. A guttural, painful moan came lowly from Mikey's throat and his eyes unfocused away from Raph and into his own muddled mind.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Don said, but didn't stop working because he knew that it was better to just get it done then go slowly. With another hand cloth he pressed gently against the side of the now open wound, increasing the pressure with every moment. Puss started to squish out, making a disgusting sound but much worse was the smell. It smelt of rotten flesh and disease and _death_. It wasn't something you wanted to smell coming from your little brother.

Mike moaned in deep pain again and tears traced down the side of his face as he had another full body twitch from the pain. Raph was shushing him gently as he held his shoulders in place, cringing at the smell and knowing better then to turn around and witness it for himself.

Don pressed up against the other side of the wound the same way he did the first time and collected what he could, then threw the dirty rag into the puke bucket beside him. Taking a shaky breath and commanding that his hands stop shaking as well, he opened up the large bottle of peroxide and started to poor it on the wound. It hissed and sputtered and Mikey's moan turned into a whine, his body twitching once again.

"I'm sorry, I'm _so_ sorry," Don chanted, taking a deep breath and trying to control his emotions as his eyes started to fill with moisture. Hurting his brother when he was already so sick, when he was already in _so much_ pain, he felt as if he was somehow betraying him.

"Nearly done, nearly done," Don's chant changed as he cut away some of the dead skin around the wound, glad that this was much less painful because it was already dead, and wiped it off again with a clean rag. In the next minute the wound had stitches once again.

Don put his tools to the side and replaced the blanket over the wound, "How is he?" he asked Raph.

"Dunno, I think he's ok." _As ok as he can be_, "He's not as pale no more." Don nodded at this, his eyes drifting towards the IV bag where it was draped across the spine of the couch. Taking yet another deep breath he got through his bag and found what he had placed in there before leaving where they had all of his lab things stored.

Antibiotics, a mixture of many. It would do nothing but help right now, since they can't go to the hospital and give him the correct mix. Standing he got a needle and withdrew a good measure of it and confidently put the needle in the IV bag and deposited its contents, then gently mixed up the bag. It would provide that Mike got them in a steady, sure amount.

"What now?" Raph asked as Don collected up his kit and set it off to the side.

"We wait." Don said simply, rubbing the back of his head with blunted fingernails, "He should be more coherent within a few hours but it's going to take him a week or so to be completely healed." He left off the fact that Mike could relapse back into the infection and could possibly die from it. "We need to make sure his wound stays clean, and when he does start to wake up get him to drink some water."

Raph nodded slowly, standing up and settling down in Splinter's recliner, keeping his eyes trained on Mikey's form as color started to slowly wash back into his skin and his breathing started to slow down. Don picked up the bucket and quickly put it outside of the lair in hopes to get rid of the smell. He sat down on the floor next to the couch and rested his head back, pressing lightly against Mikey's arm as the youngest rested.

In two and a half hours Mikey's eyes slid open and for the first time in three hours they were nearly clear, only the last effects of sleep clogging their clarity.

"How do you feel, Mike?" came a soft voice from beside him and he rolled his head towards it.

"Hey Donnie," he gave a lopsided smile, blinking slowly, "What-what happened?"

"You got sick but your getting better, you feel hot or anything?"

"No, not really. Little thirsty, though." Mike reached a hand up and scratched his neck when he said it. Quite suddenly a dark green arm holding a water bottle at the end came from the other side of his vision and his turned his head away from Don and spotted Raph leaning over the back of the couch.

"Hey twerp, 'bout time you woke up." Raph growled as Mike grabbed the water bottle and Don helped him sit up, "You remember anythin' from when yous was sick?"

"Mm… I remember doing the dishes annnnd then… it got really hot and I felt like puking and… waking up just now?" Mike said uncertainly, frowning at his sudden loss of memory.

"Huh. Well, that sure sucks for you, don't it?" Raph stated smugly, standing up straight and crossing his arms over his chest, "Now I believe your comic books are under junk pile number five, right?"

Mikey's eyes narrowed and pulled down the rim of the water bottle from his lips. "Why do _you_ need to know where my comic books are?"

"Oh, well. Ya'see. When you was all sick 'n stuff you agreed to let me use it as TP. And you can't break an agreement, can ya?" Raph called the last part over his shoulder as he started to walk in the direction of Michelangelo's room.

Mikey eyes widened with every word and he called after Raphael, "DON'T YOU DARE RAPH! YOU DO THAT AND I WILL SCRATCH YOUR BIKE!" This, in turn, stopped Raph right in his tracked.

He turned on his heels and stormed over, rage forming on his face and his voice a dangerously low whisper, "If you even _think_ of trying anything like that you lil' fuck I'm gunna shove my sai in your dumbass head!"

Michelangelo, completely unphased, bit back, "YOU don't touch my comic books and I won't touch your bike, capease?"

"_Fine._" Raph whispered and then stomped off to his room.

"Well. That was fun." Mikey commented while looking about himself, "You know if we got piz-"

"Michelangelo," Don said gently to gain the turtles attention. "You were really, _really_ sick today. I don't think you should go off and eat pizza. Actually, your off of pizza and all other related food for three days. And bed rest for another five days, got it?"

"Awh! Come on Don, I'm hungry and I have things-"

"You do that for me and I'll do the dishes for the week, ok?"

"Ok. You know, I could get used to this…"


End file.
